Chapter 3
876 Words
Three days later, while I was looking up references in the library, I suddenly remembered something.
Before my death, Charles died of bone cancer. It was already terminal when it was discovered, which means the cancer cells might already be inside him right now.
I shot to my feet so abruptly that I knocked over my chair, drawing stares from everyone around me.
I didn't even stop to apologize. I just burst out of the library, calling Charles as I ran. "Charles, do you have any free time this afternoon? I'd like to treat you to coffee."
At the coffee shop, when I told him I wanted him to come with me for a medical checkup, he couldn't help but tease me. "Jimmy, why do you suddenly want a checkup? Are you feeling unwell too?"
I made up an excuse on the spot. "The university organized it for all of us. Charles, I get a little scared going alone. Can you come with me?"
He looked at me suspiciously. "Really?"
I tried my best to look sincere. "What I said is true, and I want you to get checked out too. Consider it a premarital checkup, I guess? After all, you're going to marry my sister soon."
Charles's ears flushed. He said helplessly, "Oh, you..."
Just then, his phone rang.
"Where are you, Charles?" It was Isabelle.
"I'm having coffee with Jimmy."
There was a short silence at the other end of the line, then she asked him to come home early.
After he hung up, Charles chuckled, "My girl's so clingy."
I tugged the corners of my mouth into a faint smile, made an excuse that I had a class, and we arranged to meet on the weekend.
As soon as I walked out of the school gate, I saw Isabelle's car parked by the entrance.
She got out, grabbed my wrist roughly, and dragged me over to a corner by the wall.
Before I could even process what was happening, she shoved me away hard. I stumbled and fell straight to the ground.
My knees and elbows burned with pain. When I looked down, I saw scraped skin, and beads of blood were seeping through.
She looked down at me from above, her eyes as cold as ice.
"Jimmy, I'm warning you. Stay away from Charles. Don't say things you shouldn't say, and don't do things you shouldn't do." Her eyes were full of rage.
I pushed myself up on my arms, my voice shaking a little: "I didn't do anything. I only asked him to go with me for a check-up."
She paused. "Are you feeling unwell?"
It was out before she knew it.
I froze for a moment, then shook my head. "No. It's required by the school."
She stared at me for a long time, her expression slowly shifting, as if remembering something and checking something at the same time.
A moment later, she squatted down and looked at the scrape on my knee. "Get in the car."
She took me to a pharmacy to buy iodine and gauze, then squatted by the roadside to dress my wound.
Her touch wasn't exactly gentle, but it was careful.
"This weekend, I will go with both of you for the check-up." She spoke so softly I barely heard it.
I stared down at my toes, my vision going blurry.
On the day the check-up results came out, Charles was shaking all over with sobs.
It was early-stage bone cancer.
With confidence, the doctor assured us, "We caught it extremely early, so the cure rate is very high."
Isabelle held Charles tight, her hands trembling with lingering fear.
Charles looked at me with his swollen eyes, "Jimmy, thank you... Thank you so much."
I shook my head and patted his back.
Isabelle's gaze drifted over Charles's shoulder and settled on me.
It was deep, unbearably deep.
I remember the day Charles died back in my past life—it was pouring rain.
After Isabelle learned that he had left because he found out about that one night we spent together, she stood at his grave for a whole day, completely soaked through.
When she got home, she smashed everything she could get her hands on. Then she found the diary I had hidden at the very bottom of my drawer.
She became convinced I had deliberately told Charles the truth.
I tried to explain, but she would not believe me.
She divorced me, forced me to leave the marriage with nothing, and made sure I could not find a job anywhere.
In the end, I died of illness in a rented apartment, all alone with no one by my side.
I had the chance to make this right.
Charles will live, and Isabelle will not hate me for what I did not do.
As for me, I will leave.
A huge weight finally lifted from my heart.
When we left the hospital, the sun was setting.
Isabelle went to complete the inpatient admission procedures, so Charles and I sat waiting in the lobby.
Charles, clearly shaken, said to me in a low voice, "Jimmy, I'm scared."
I patted his shoulder to assure him, "Don't be scared. My sister will always be there for you."
- Writer
